I didn’t need to capture his words, I knew what he was going to say. It took him ten minutes to say it, though. It took him ten minutes, to carefully, painfully, unable to look at me, say that he was leaving.
He couldn’t say why he was leaving, because up until that moment in the car, we had been the best roommates on the planet.
We liked the same things, we didn’t encroach on each other’s space. We went to bed at the same time, woke at the same time, worked in the same office.
Some days he drove me, some days, I drove him.
As he spoke I had the impression, the horrible painful impression, that he would leave the job to avoid me. I wish I could say something, but I couldn’t.
“I wish you the very best, Bryan,” I reply when he had done, with a real enough smile, “I have to run…we can talk later…”
I know he said something about there not being a later, but I hurried away to do not much, but seem busy while doing it.
I saw Bryan arrive at the office, but was busy. Or seemed to be.
During the coffee break he told me he was moving out this evening. I made a fuss about him taking the throw pillows, and he said I could keep them, which sort of tied a ribbon and packed away our relationship.